


Happiness in Slavery

by punkrockgaia



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Slavery, dubcon, everything is kind of implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil, post-Strex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness in Slavery

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you to Nazi-Nurse for the loan of Diego!

Cecil shivered and hugged himself tight. He was always so cold. So cold and hungry. He'd always been so cold and so hungry. And so alone.

Maybe today would be different. Today, Diego had asked him to do something very special. Very important. Maybe he could be special, be important. Maybe he could do this right.

Trembling, he opened the door to the closet. Diego's closet. It wasn't the kind of job he was used to. He was used to cleaning the floor of the kitchen on his hands and knees. He was used to cleaning Diego's shoes.

With his tongue.

Not this, this... This soft, warm work. This work that smelled good and felt good. Hmmmm... Those long racks of grey wool suits. They smelled of mothballs and cedar. They smelled of blood and cordite. They smelled of Diego. 

He loved Diego.

Diego didn't love him.

Diego loved Kevin. Cecil was **not** Kevin. Cecil was inferior to Kevin in every way. 

Diego said so.

Diego was always right.

Kevin was his playmate. Kevin loved him.

Kevin's love _hurt._

Cecil shivered, always cold, always hungry. Always bad.

His job was to go through Diego's closet, to find anything that should be discarded. Why had they chosen him? He was bad, he was dirty.

He went through the clothing in the closet, his bare, shivering skin exposed to so much temptation in the form of soft, soft fabric. He didn't deserve things like clothes, though. That was for good people. People like Kevin.

He pawed gently through the suits on the bars. Every jacket was immaculate, every button was in place. Each pair of pants had a perfect crease. There was nothing to discard.

Finally, though, at the end of the closet, there was something... A white lab coat, stained with blood, charred and burnt. Cecil touched it, his fingers ghosting over it reverently. 

In his mind, something flickered.

Acting on impulse he grasped his hands into fists, clutched the lab coat and brought it to his face. It smelled of blood and fire. Everything always smelled of blood and fire. But this smelled different.

It smelled of sweat. Of shampoo. Of formaldehyde and coffee.

It smelled of lavender chewing-gum.

As he breathed the scent in, a memory triggered in his head, like a worm emerging from a chrysalis. 

Softness.

Warmth.

Skin on his skin.

Pleasure.

A voice like oak and caramel, saying his name.

Love.

_Carlos_

Then pain and spasm and the white white light of the smiling god.

He woke, groggy, on the floor of the closet, the taste of old pennies in his mouth, a burn around the collar on his neck, a rough hand on his wrist wrenching him up from the floor. He felt his shoulder separate as he stood, bit back a cry.

He stood to face Diego, then immediately cast his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He heard a chuckle like flint on steel, then felt raptor claws grasping his head. 

"Hmmm, my little worm, you _will_ be sorry. Yes, you will."

Cecil nodded. He didn't know what he'd done, but he knew it was wrong. Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow he'd make it right.

Maybe tomorrow Diego would love him.


End file.
